


Hollow

by ladydragon76



Series: Excess Energy [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fanfiction, KINK: BDSM, KINK: bondage, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, Warning: violence, character: blurr, character: drift, character: sideswipe, character: sunstreaker, character: topspin, character: twin twist, genre: angst, genre: drama, genre: hurt/comfort, series: excess energy, smut: sticky, verse: idw, warning: au, warning: canon- what canon?, warning: character death, warning: triggery content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Love and loss and trying to fill in the hollow space that loss created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** Excess Energy  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairings:** Topspin/Twin Twist/Blurr, Drift/Blurr, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/Blurr  
>  **Warnings:** Canon Character Death, Sticky, Spoilers for LSotW if you haven’t read that
> 
> **Notes:** Very stream of consciousness. I pretty much just set the scene, then let Blurr have at, also, I’m abusing the hell out of the canon timeline… I think…

Blurr gasped as Twin Twist flopped over sideways on the berth, taking him with him and pulling him off of Topspin’s spike. Blurr squirmed his hips, ignoring Twin Twist’s protests as his spike slipped free too, and then cuddled back in.

“Slagger,” Topspin, muttered to his twin, curling against Blurr’s back.

Twin Twist grunted, tightening his hold and running a series of little bites down the side of Blurr’s helm.

“I should be going,” Blurr sulked, unable to suppress the complaint.

“Would be if it were up to me,” Twin Twist said, resting his helm against Blurr’s. “Like keepin’ my favorite ‘facing toy close by.”

A hand stroked down Blurr’s side. “Prowl’s calling the shots on this one,” Topspin said with the bored sort of patience that came with knowing that Blurr wasn’t going to stop whining about not being sent with them to Garrus-9 for a few _years_. “I know Springer argued for you, and I’d sure rather you be at my back than a bunch of unknowns, but we’re stuck.”

Blurr heaved a sigh. “It’s stupid. Like I don’t equal a handful of untried glitches?”

“More than,” Topspin said softly by a helm wing, nuzzling and purring quietly.

They weren’t usually like this. Most of the time it was hard and fast with Blurr tied up, or held down, and Twin Twist was driving ruthlessly into him, leaving Topspin to watch and direct them. Sometimes Topspin would discipline Twin Twist. Sometimes he tied them both up. Sometimes, often, they were even more adventurous than that. This time, however, like before all separations for missions, they were closer. Quieter. There were no knots or orders or shock canes. No dents or scrapes beyond what pure and ardent desire brought.

They didn’t talk much. Emotion was implied by the trust granted one another, but every now and then Twin Twist got impatient and frustrated enough to say… things.

“Should just bond. Then they’d keep us together.”

Blurr looked up sharply.

“Twist,” Topspin warned.

“What? They would. Or at least we could push for it instead of being blown off as just a good time.”

“Yeah? So what? If one of us dies we cost the Autobots _three_ of their best instead of just two?” Topspin threw back.

Blurr didn’t want their last bit of relaxation stolen by an argument, so reached up to cup Twin Twist’s face. “I would. But Spin’s right. All the reasons for not doing it are still there.” He leaned in to press a slow, warm kiss to Twin Twist’s lips. “Just come home to me.”

“You are home.” Now it Twin Twist’s turn to sulk.

Topspin’s hand slid around and flattened over the center of Blurr’s chest plating. “If Prime announced right now the war was over, my spark would be bared to you before he finished talking.”

Blurr smiled, then wriggled and twisted until he could face Topspin, Twin Twist protesting the whole way, his hands clutching at Blurr. Blurr pressed in for a kiss from Topspin, still smiling. “Bet I could have my armor retracted first.”

Topspin snickered and kissed Blurr again. “And then it’d be all over but the screaming.” He wrapped his arms around Blurr and rolled to the side of the berth.

“Hey! Mine!”

“Then come get it in the washracks, because that’s where I’m taking it.”

“Why am I suddenly an ‘it’?” Blurr asked, laughing as Topspin lifted him and stood. Blurr wound his legs around Topspin’s waist and winked at Twin Twist over his brother’s shoulder, laughing as he scrambled off the berth to follow them.

~ | ~

Blurr was there when the ship landed, Drift beside him. Ratchet and the other medics rushed in the second the ramp lowered, hurrying away with a slagged Springer and another mech. Then came Ultra Magnus and the little human, followed by a fairly damaged Perceptor limping along.

And that was it.

Some dockhands entered the ship, but no one else exited.

“Where are they?” Blurr took a step forward, looking up in confusion as Ultra Magnus gripped his shoulder briefly then walked on by.

Blurr stared after him, frowning and shaking his helm.

“Perceptor?” Drift asked.

“We’re it.”

“You can’t be.” Blurr looked up at Perceptor, then took a step to the side, intending to go around him. “I’m home. I’m their home, so they have to come back.”

Blurr knew they exchanged looks over his head, but he didn’t care. Now if Perceptor would just get the slag out of his damn way and stop blocking him!

“Blurr.”

Hands gripped his shoulders, but Blurr refused to look up. He was still trying to push his way around Perceptor when Drift’s familiar, powerful grip locked around his wrists and crossed his arms, holding him tight from behind.

“Blurr!”

“No!” Blurr shouted, going limp, but it’d been Drift that’d taught him that move.

Beyond Perceptor and being taken out of the hold, seen as Blurr struggled with Drift, were caskets. He went still, vents stalling out as a huge fist slammed into his spark. He knew the glyphs on the sides of two of them, but they didn’t make any sense.

“Blurr.” Said much gentler this time, by a low, surprisingly soft voice next to his audial.

“We were… outmatched,” Perceptor whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry?

Blurr’s optics snapped up to Perceptor’s face, then back to the caskets, helm shaking in adamant denial. However, the glyphs wouldn’t be denied. They stood out in thick black paint, solid and damning and final.

A high sound built, and Blurr tried to wrench himself from Drift’s hold with renewed desperation. If he could just get over there, then he would look and they’d be empty, and the slaggers would come laughing out of the ship. Blurr would hit them and cry, and swear to Primus and Unicron both that he’d never let them recharge in the berth with him again let alone ‘face him, and then Topspin would pick him up, carry him to their quarters and make a lie of everything Blurr raved at them.

Blurr’s shoulder flared with pain, but that was nothing. Not until he was lifted, then Blurr screamed as his feet left the floor. Voices swam around him, louder, shouting. He ignored them, clawing and kicking. Someone yelped. Blurr’s vocalizer broke on static as he screamed as loud as he could for Topspin. For Twin Twist. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t a joke. Damnit, stop playing!

“ _ **SPIN!**_ ”

“Do it,” Perceptor said, voice resigned and strained.

“ ** _TWIST!_** ”

Light burst behind Blurr’s optics, then everything went black.

~ | ~

Blurr woke wrapped in the recognizable warmth of a thermal blanket. He blinked blearily, frowning at the blob of white which slowly resolved into Drift.

He relaxed, trying to clear the fog from his processors. Had he spent the night with Drift again? That wasn’t unusual, especially not with the twins off on a mission. Blurr felt _really_ groggy though. He usually woke up bright and chipper and ready to go after a round or four with Drift.

Blue optics lit, then focused, Drift sitting up almost instantly. “Blurr!” His touch was gentle as he cupped, then petted Blurr’s helm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to recharge. Do you need anything? Energon?”

Something in the way he looked at Blurr brought the memory of a nightmare back. Blurr tried to sit up, but his left arm wouldn’t move and a shock of pain gripped his shoulder. He gasped, memories rushing back and freezing his lines. It wasn’t a nightmare. At least not in the just-dreaming-not-reality way.

Drift’s hands pinned Blurr down in the blanket as he began to struggle. “Easy. Seriously. Just… breathe for a minute. Ratchet let me take you out of the medbay, but if you freak out and start screaming again, I’m going to have to take you back.”

Blurr went still. He didn’t want to be in the medbay. Not when standard procedure was to salvage every part they could from mechs that no longer needed them. Blurr’s vents caught, and Drift’s expression tightened, but he wasn’t going to scream. At least he didn’t think so. His head ached way too much for that. His vision did blear though, so he just squeezed his optics shut and tried to get his vents to cycle evenly. He grasped after something to say.

“My shoulder…?” he rasped. Ow. Frag, he’d really done a number to his vocalizer.

Drift laid back down, pressing close. “I’m sorry. I had a hold of your wrist when you finally got loose. You just… launched. Couple gears slipped. Ratchet fixed them, but you’re going to be sore while the wrenched cables settle.” His arm draped over Blurr’s waist. “Perceptor filled me in, what he could anyways. They went together. I’m really sorry.”

Blurr shook his helm, then gave up trying to hold back and sobbed into Drift’s shoulder. He didn’t want it to be real, but they wouldn’t leave him with Drift to hurt like this if they were alive.

~ | ~

Blurr withdrew, and he knew he was doing it. He tended his duties, ignored the pitying or annoyed or curious looks, and just did what he was told. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much for him to do. The old itch came back. The need to run, to feel the jolt of impact vibrate up his legs. To _move_.

But he couldn’t. This was Earth, and they had speed limits, and he’d cause an accident with the humans, who weren’t anywhere close to as skilled as he was at driving, and he certainly couldn’t go out and _run_ in his bipedal form. He was a giant alien robot to them. It’d be pandemonium.

Or something.

So Blurr did the only thing he could do. He went to Drift.

Drift was welcoming enough, and what was only supposed to be rough, bleed off the charge interfacing became a habit.

He was good, but not good enough. Blurr wanted it to hurt. He ached for the confident dominance of Topspin. The perfect level of violence Twin Twist could bring to bear that would ride the fine line between pain and mind-blowing ecstasy. Drift was too careful. He’d pin Blurr down, take him roughly, but he never left dents. He never made Blurr bleed. He never left him limping two days later while still floating on a post-coital high that had given no sign yet of fading any time soon.

He just wasn’t enough.

~ | ~

Blurr was getting reamed by Ratchet, but was barely listening. The dents on his inner thigh impeded movement too much to be ignored, and there were more on his hips.

When Drift arrived, Ratchet lit into him too.

“Stop playing so fragging rough with each other! This isn’t-”

“Drift didn’t do this,” Blurr said, watching as something behind Drift’s optics twisted. It almost looked like betrayal. It almost tasted like guilt.

Almost.

But then it faded, and Drift walked away.

Ratchet was silent a moment, then went back to cursing as Blurr twelve shades of stupid.

~ | ~

“No! Enough of this slag!” Ratchet bellowed when Sideswipe carried Blurr into the medbay and set him carefully on a berth.

Blurr actually flinched back a little.

Sideswipe all but skittered out of the medic’s reach. “He didn’t mean to, Ratchet,” he said. “Sunny… He just-”

“I _asked_ for this!” Blurr cut in. “I _like_ it!”

He reeled as Ratchet actually clouted him in the helm hard enough to rock him sideways.

“Then figure out how to repair yourself!” The spanner clanged loudly as Ratchet slammed it on the med berth, then stormed out.

Sideswipe hesitated, but eventually sighed, picked the tool up and began prying the crumpled edges of Blurr’s plating out of the transformations seams. “We can’t do this anymore. Sunny’s just _not_ -”

“I _like_ it,” Blurr repeated.

Sideswipe met his optics and held them. “Yeah? Well, I don’t. I don’t like fearing that he’s going to slip my control and kill you. We’re out. Done. Stay away from my brother. At least until he gets past some of the trauma. This isn’t helping him _or_ you, and it’s driving me crazy!”

Blurr’s jaw jutted out stubbornly, but he knew better than to push. He’d been left again.

That was annoying, but at least they were suddenly very busy, what with fleeing Earth and fighting Decepticons and all.

~ | ~

When Blurr came flying off the bridge with Drift, not Sunstreaker, something behind Sideswipe’s optics twisted.

It was definitely betrayal, but there was nothing Blurr could do about it. Sunstreaker didn’t want to come back, and all Blurr had was following orders. Being useful. He was fast, a good shot, and obedient. He cared about being useful just enough to keep himself from being reckless, but not by much.

He turned away from Sideswipe, who was very much alive -which meant that Sunstreaker was too. He didn’t understand why no one wanted to go looking, but Drift pulled at him, and everyone else was walking away too. Blurr knew all too well what happened to twins when one of them died, so why was Sideswipe walking with them? Why wasn’t he demanding they rescue his twin?

Maybe that look of betrayal hadn’t been aimed at Blurr?

Drift tugged again and Blurr followed. He spent the night wrapped around a very happy to be alive Drift, and carefully not thinking about any of his earlier questions.

~ | ~

Blurr figured he shouldn’t have been so shocked that Drift left him again. There wasn’t really anything there between them. They slaked lust with one another, and it still wasn’t exactly how Blurr craved it, but it was better than nothing.

Before Drift changed.

It was that change that he was more shocked by. Yes, the war was over, but what the frag was with this _cheery_ , bouncy new persona? Blurr was put off by it _and_ the softness that entered their interfacing. That wasn’t at all what he wanted from Drift.

When the _Lost Light_ exploded just after launching, he gasped. He gaped, disbelieving that it had happened. He thought of Drift and Perceptor. Of Ultra Magnus and Ratchet. Of Sunstreaker and his weird pet insecticon.

But it didn’t _hurt_.

Then he saw Sideswipe still standing, still _alive_ even days later, and didn’t understand why there was going to be a memorial service. Hadn’t they learned from before?

Blurr was angry. Not as angry or violent as Sideswipe quickly became, but certainly unhappy and irritated all the same. He was also very dissatisfied. He had no purpose beyond the questionable orders Prowl gave him, and he was really getting tired of following them. But then what would he have left?

The war was _over_! Why weren’t they rebuilding their lives yet?

Shouldn’t they be rebuilding? Shouldn’t they at least be trying to?

He _really_ wanted to. There was more to be had now than surviving, and Blurr wanted… something.

~ | ~

Blurr surveyed the bar. It was clean now, restored. Ironhide had pointed out the differences from the last incarnation of Maccadam’s, but only for Blurr’s information during the remodeling. It now carried a distinctly Blurr flavor with the glowing, multicolored neon signs and newly built stage for performers. But the tables were shined, the seats comfortable, the tumblers polished and stacked and glittering in the bright overhead lights. Bottles of all kinds of energon stood ready to be poured, and that, plus the friendly, open atmosphere, were all part of what Maccadam’s was known for.

Blurr smiled, feeling rather proud of himself, and very glad he’d considered Ironhide’s advice. He turned to the door, flicked on the open sign, and let in his first patrons.

~ | ~

“Thank you!” Jazz shouted over the cheers of the crowd, then hopped off the stage to land behind the bar.

Blurr held out a crystal tumbler of warmed energon. He’d already added the powdered copper Jazz liked so much, and smiled brightly. “They’re eating up the rewrites you’ve done of those Earth songs.”

Jazz thirstily gulped down the energon, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he turned to set it in the sterilizer. “Classics are great, my mech, but new is always good. Wait ‘til tomorrow night! I’ve got one of my own ta play. Oh! Ya’re my favorite mech, Blurr! I ever toldja that?”

Blurr laughed as Jazz took the second prepared energon.

His lead musician wasn’t the only hungry mech, however, so Blurr left Jazz to his own devices and got back to helping his staff until closing time. Once the last server was out and the doors were locked, Blurr turned to find Jazz with his aft parked on the bar and a copyrighted smirk on his face. He wiggled the shot of high grade at Blurr and snickered a little.

Blurr shook his helm, took the shot and downed it, but then he turned, optics taking in his bar.

_His_ bar.

The neon and overheads were off, leaving just the dim orange glow of the security lights to illuminate the space. The tables and bar were clean. The tumblers were stacked and tomorrow’s specialty brews were working. They’d be ready in the morning for Blurr to bottle up. The treats would be gelled by then too. The stage waited. Tomorrow was karaoke night, another Earth thing, but it was a huge hit.

Blurr soaked it up, feeling a sense of pride and peace.

“Blurr?” Jazz’s hand was light on his arm. “Ya ok, mech?”

Blurr nodded, then turned to smile at Jazz. “Just… thinking, I guess.”

Jazz tugged a little, just enough to get Blurr moving toward the back stairs that led up to the hab-suites. He linked his arm through Blurr’s despite the stairs being barely wide enough for them to fit side by side.

Blurr chuckled, letting some of his weight lean into Jazz. “I’m fine! Stop looking at me like that.”

Jazz grinned. “Yeah, I reckon ya are now.” He waved over his shoulder, continuing on toward his door after depositing Blurr at his. “Night!”

“Night.” Blurr watched until Jazz’s door shut, then stepped into his own place.

He crossed to his berth room, fighting off the temptation of recharging on his sofa again. He loved watching the city lights beyond the windows that overlooked the street in front of the bar, but it put one Pit of a kink in his neck cables.

Blurr slumped onto the berth and rolled up in his thermal blanket, sighing in contentment.

It was the realization of that feeling that had him sitting bolt upright, staring into the dark.

He was… content.

There was still a hollow spot in his spark, but he’d grown so accustomed to the numbness that he’d grasped after to bury the agony, that he hadn’t realized when it had actually faded and become tolerable. Somehow, between taking Ironhide’s advice and that very moment, the husk he’d been had filled in a considerable amount. He had become a living mech again instead of a drone.

_Spin? Twist?_ Blurr thought. He pictured them in his mind, something he’d flinched back violently from the last time it’d happened. A soft sort of sadness wrapped around his spark. He still missed them, but he didn’t feel like he was going to drown. _Would you be proud of me?_ he wondered.

Probably not all of it. Pits, Blurr wasn’t proud of a heavy chunk of the last few years. But now?

He thought maybe they might be, and smiled to himself as he laid back down. And even if they weren’t, well, he still liked how things were going for him now. They could give him slag about it if they wanted to whenever he ended up in the Well.

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) ) ******


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